


Singing For Tips

by StillJustAKilljoy



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:30:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3893023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StillJustAKilljoy/pseuds/StillJustAKilljoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"While the customer examined the menu, Brendon examined him."</p><p>High school age Brendon and Spencer meet at the smoothie shop where Brendon works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Singing For Tips

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first story on here. I'm not exactly sure what this is. I had like a ton of different plots planned out but then I got this urge to write cocky teenage Brendon and this happened. (I say planned but I have no idea where this is going.)

The line of cars inched maddeningly slowly towards the stoplight for the turn out of the student parking lot. It was one of those sticky, gray afternoons and the odd raindrop would occasionally land with a faint tap on the windshield. Brendon sighed with impatience, slouching slightly in the driver's seat of his beat-up sedan and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He was going to be late for work. Again.

After five more minutes that could have been a year, he was two cars away from the light. The car behind him honked for the third time and he rolled his eyes. {You're not the only one with somewhere to be, asshole.} The light changed and as soon as the way was clear, Brendon pressed the gas pedal with more force than necessary, nearly launching the car straight into the reservoir across the street. He adjusted the direction, frowning at the grinding sound his breaks made, and left the high school behind at ten miles per hour above the speed limit.

The strip mall parking lot was growing crowded with the regular after-school rush when he pulled in. He could see the line already forming inside the smoothie bar. He yanked the glass door open and nudged past the people waiting just behind it. Dodging tables, he hurried behind the counter, grabbing his uniform polo shirt from underneath.

"Hey James." He winked haughtily at the painfully-straight manager. who was ringing up a blonde woman with three squirming kids. The remarkably boring night-school student rolled his eyes and looked away as Brendon pulled his shirt off over his head, the white t-shirt he wore underneath pulling up briefly to expose his lower abdomen.

Once Brendon was safely dressed in his scratchy blue uniform shirt, James moved his dull gaze to him. "Can I trust you to behave so I can leave for the day?"

Brendon waved the comment off and turned to flash his most charming and recently braces-free smile at the customer that had come to the order counter. "How can I help you today?"

The customer, a girl in a Saint Mary's Catholic cheerleading t-shirt, blushed slightly at his flirtatious tone. Little did she know she wasn't exactly his type. She ordered a large strawberry and banana smoothie and stood there biting her lip and watching his butt as he made it.

Brendon began to sing as he chopped the fruit. It kept him in a good mood through his six-hour shifts, and was the next best thing to sitting at home with his guitar and drum set. Today was a Sinatra kind of day he decided, starting in on a rendition of Fly Me to the Moon.

* * *

The afternoon fell into its workday pattern, Brendon having earned some pretty substantial tips from his singing, and by 7:30, the only other sign of life was a big white moth outside that had been smacking itself into the door for a good ten minutes. Brendon stretched his arms high over his head, feeling the tension release from his shoulders with two satisfying cracks. He leaned his back against the edge of counter and went to hook his thumbs into the pockets of his skinny jeans, only for them to be stopped by firm seams where the openings should have been. Damn girl jeans. Absolutely ridiculous. Why did they have to look so good on him?

After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling, thumbs in his BACK pockets, he decided to do some cleaning up. At least it was SOMETHING to do. There was a crate off to the side filled with fruit scraps that got dropped off at a compost center every Thursday morning. It was Wednesday night. Brendon decided to start with that. He stooped to pick it up, grunting softly with effort as he stood up with it. He had it balanced against his hipbone to free his right hand and unlock the back door. He had just found the key on the ring when somebody cleared their throat suddenly.

The box fell from his hands in his surprise, landing squarely on his left foot. A rather unbecoming squeak escaped him before he could stop it.

"Christ," said the guy who must have fucking teleported into the store because Brendon was convinced he hadn't heard the door open. "You ok, dude?"

Brendon pulled his foot out from under the crate and slid it back to where it was against the wall. Someone else could deal with it in the morning. He grimaced, biting his tongue to keep from squeaking again. "Uh, yeah. F-fine. What can I get you?"

While the customer examined the menu, Brendon examined him. They were definitely about the same age, he decided, which was a good start. He had beefy arms, which was always a nice feature, messy, kinda longish, light brown hair, and THE MOST INCREDIBLE EYES. They were that type of blue that, no matter what the person's other coloring, just sort of jumps out and smacks you in the face when you make eye contact.

They did exactly that when he looked back to Brendon ready to order. Whatever cocky teenage charm Brendon had possessed that made even the straightest of male customers at least crack a flattered smile melted in that moment and was gone.

"I'll have a medium pineapple mango please."

Brendon just sort of blinked, unable to look away. "I-I'll uh, I'll get that for you," he managed finally, feeling the counter blindly for the box of plastic gloves and still staring at the boy who stood there in his fabulously snug Hammer Time Hardware Stores t-shirt. He worked NEXT DOOR. Things just kept getting better.

The staring was probably getting weird, he realized, carefully slicing the fresh pineapple he had picked especially for this very cute stranger. Heart still beating irregularly, he began to sing very quietly as he worked. When the fruit was ready for the blender he stopped. To his surprise and extreme joy, the other guy actually applauded.

"You're pretty good, man."

For the first time all day, it was Brendon's turn to blush. "Thank you. It just sorta makes me work faster."

"Well keep it up dude, it's awesome. I'm Spencer by the way."

He held out his large hand. Brendon shook it, recognizing drum stick callouses on the strong fingers. "Brendon."

"You seem like a cool guy, Brendon," Spencer handed him a ten dollar bill for the drink. "Maybe we should grab coffee or something sometime. What time does your shift usually start?"

"Not until four tomorrow," Brendon lied immediately. Coffee with Spencer would totally be worth pissing James off for a day. He felt his heart rate pick up again.

"Great, how about the Starbucks here?"

"Perfect," Brendon blurted a bit too eagerly. He grabbed his cell phone and pulled up the contacts. "Uh...here," he said sheepishly, sliding the phone across the counter.

Spencer typed his number in and handed it back. "See you tomorrow then?"

Brendon could do nothing but nod, out of fear of what would come out of his mouth should he try to speak. He couldn't even articulate inside his head. Speech was out of the question. It wasn't even fair. The whole encounter couldn't have taken more than ten or twelve minutes, but his mind and feelings were out of control.

Spencer left with a wave and a bright, sincere smile. It made Brendon want to punch himself in the face.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know how this website works but let me know if you liked this I guess, and maybe tell me what direction you think it should go in?


End file.
